The Corners of Her Heart
by NCCJFAN
Summary: A tough case drives a wedge between Jordan and her trust in others...especially Woody. And Woody struggles with his own demons concerning her and their relationship. Definite WJ going on, but rated R for subject matter concerning the case. FINISHED
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I don't own Crossing Jordan nor do I profit from writing about any of the characters. Tim Kring owns everything. And he won't sell. So I borrow them, play with them, and put them back. **

**

* * *

****Prologue**

She used to have faith….a deep, lasting, faith….in many things….being able to make the leaps across the gaps in life with the abiding belief that life was good….even if there were twists and turns, life was good.

But now, unless she could measure it, weigh it, calculate it, graph it on a computer, or define it with her science, for her it didn't exist. It was a non persona. A person non gratis.

It was invisible.

That was why she had such a problem with love. It was all those things…weightless, measureless, ungraphable. It couldn't be programmed into a computer nor defined by any text books.

Love took faith

More than faith…it took trust.

And trust was something her life was sadly lacking in.

She shook her head as she left Good Friday services at St. Inez. She had gone to please her father, but in some remote way, in the back of her head and in the corner of her heart, she hoped something would happen today to restore both her faith and trust in God and her fellow man.

She was sadly disappointed.

She crossed herself and left the services.


	2. The Evidence Doesn't Add Up

**Chapter One**

_**A Year Earlier……**_

"He didn't do it, Woody," Jordan said in exasperation.

"That's what you say, but all the evidence points otherwise," Woody retorted, clearly angry with her conclusions…conclusions that had once again contradicted what he had hypothesized.

"Look, I know what you're thinking….that I'm jumping conclusions, that I don't want to see the forest for the trees, that because it's difficult to believe a sixteen year-old boy would commit such a heinous murder, I'm deliberately _not_ looking at all the evidence…."

"A sixteen year-old boy is on the cusp of adulthood. He could have committed these crimes. Especially when you see what kind of people he was hanging out with after school and on the internet. Come on, Jordan. You remember Columbine…you remember the twelve year-old kid last year that killed both his grandparents and then his little sister. Kids do commit murder."

"Yeah, but _this_ kid didn't commit _this_ murder."

"Jordan," Woody said, his voice lowering and taking on a warning tone. "Look at all the evidence."

"I am. I'm looking at the body."

"Yeah, yeah….and the answers are always in the body…I know, I know. I've heard that schpill for the last four years. Yes, it is the forensics that helps prove the case. Help. Assist. But you have to weigh all the evidence together. This kid had motive….opportunity … the weapon….and the help and the background. He hated women. Hell, after what his mother did to him, he had a right to. But that didn't give him the right to kill."

Jordan took a deep breath and counted to ten. Lowering her voice, she replied. "I know that, Woody. Circumstantial evidence-wise, you may have him. But I'm telling you, forensically, you don't."

Woody threw her look…one filled with fury and disbelief. "Just finish your autopsy. I need your report on my desk first thing tomorrow morning. When I make an arrest, I need it to stick." He turned and walked to the doors of the autopsy room, when her voice stopped him.

"Woody. I'm telling you the kid didn't do this. And I won't testify against him."

* * *

Joel Thomas Brady was in a world of trouble. The sixteen year-old with a troubled past was sitting in solitary confinement in the Boston Central Jail. Solitary, because he was young and the Boston PD knew the other inmates may try to take advantage of his youth, naivety, and inexperience to introduce him to the darkest side of jail life.

The world of trouble was a completely different matter. Born to single mother who made her living among a world of pimps and johns, he was often neglected as a baby. As a child, he was ignored and abused by his mother, her "bosses" and sometimes even her clients. When he was seven, his mother was arrested for prostitution – soliciting an undercover cop. He was taken in by the foster care system. From that time until he was fourteen, he was shuttled from one foster home to another, never really fitting in. Like most children in foster care, he dreamed of a permanent home with parents that would love him…accept him….care for him. He wanted to be adopted.

But never had a chance. His mother would never sign away her parental rights and the courts would never sever them. He was caught up in a system that was chewing him up and spitting what was left of him out. Finally, seven years later, his mother convinced family court she could be his parent again. She had left her life of crime behind her and was working as a secretary. The judge had agreed and awarded her custody.

And the nightmare of abuse began one more time. He would run away, the police would bring him home. Finally, after the third time, he landed in juvenile delinquency. Figuring a few nights in there may help straighten him out, his mother didn't come for him immediately.

Oh, it helped all right. Those few days in that adolescent facility introduced him to a circle of boys that felt the same way about their mothers. These boys hated their moms for what they had been put through….the beatings….the neglect….and many times worse. Joel found a "support group" that encouraged him to let his feelings out. To hate his mother. To hate all women…because they all were like that – like his mom.

Part of Joel's fourteen year-old mind accepted that as fact. But he had some good memories of women too…Like Nancy, the foster mother he really wanted to adopt him. She was good to him. Bought him nice clothes. Toys. His first skateboard. Took him to the doctor when he was sick and then sat up with him all night. Maybe it was only women like his mother….women who had been prostitutes… that were bad. Nancy wasn't one. She was _nice_. But he kept these thoughts to himself.

Now in high school, he was barely passing most of his classes. The exception to this was his computer class. Joel loved computers, technology….he had a mind that grasped the concepts of that field. His giftedness in this area allowed him unsupervised time in the computer lab…on the internet…where he found other groups that felt the same way he did about women.

So he wasn't the only one. He began formulate the idea in his head that some women were truly evil. Maybe they didn't even deserve to live.

Then he came home one night after a party and found his mother sprawled out on their tiny living room floor…dead. Her body mutilated. He went into shock and then his body switched to automatic pilot.

He ran.

With is troubled past and with his juvenile record, he knew the police would suspect him, even though he had an alibi for most of the evening. But he had left the party at eleven. He found his mother's body at nearly one. After leaving the party, he had spent nearly two hours walking the streets near his Boston home, trying to get rid of the alcohol and pot odor on his breath and clothes. For nearly two hours, no one saw him.

He knew the police would take the easy way out and try to pin his mother's murder on him. So he left.

Only to be picked up a few hours later and placed in "protective custody."

_Protective custody my ass,_ he thought as he sat on the hard cot in his cell, his head in his hands. _They may as well go ahead and freakin' arrest me. They're going to do it anyway._

* * *

Jordan looked down at the body of Deborah Ann Brady with a mixture of distaste and pity….if it was possible to mix those two emotions.

Distaste because of what she had put her son through….the abuse, the neglect….all carefully recorded in Joel's family court record. What she had done to her son was unthinkable, at least in Jordan's mind. Being a single parent was no excuse. Jordan herself had been brought up in a single parent home and had known nothing but love and attention.

Pity…because no one deserved to die like this. No one. Jordan had carefully examined Deborah's bruised and beaten body, noting the slash marks the killer had made all over her…until finally administering the one that killed her…the one that nearly severed her head from her body.

She had been alive when the killer cut her throat. Alive and probably pleading for her life. The other wounds and injuries were for torture…the murderer had played with her…nearly exhausting her strength before he had put the knife to her throat and killed her, severing main arteries and veins. The woman had quickly bled out, losing consciousness and dying.

No one deserved to die like that.

And no one that killed like that deserved to go unpunished.

But it wasn't Joel. Deep in her gut…her instincts told Jordan the killer wasn't Joel. Children who murdered their parents…commit patricide….generally don't torture them. Not at age sixteen. No. At that age the kids are angry…furious….and emotions control the murder. They kill viciously, to be sure. But they kill…they don't take the time to torture. They murder and leave.

Joel was a typical sixteen year-old boy. He may have developed the ability to hate at such a young age, but not the capability to torture. There was nothing in his record to indicate that….no mistreatment of other adults or children. Or animals. If hemurdered his mother, which Jordan didn't think he did, he would have killed and left.

However, he did leave the scene. Jordan sighed. It would have been much simpler if Joel would have called the police and remained with his mother's body. Or went to a neighbor's. But the boy panicked. From what Jordan was thinking, the boy came home from the party late, saw his mother, went over and touched her…to see if there were any signs of life….freaked out and ran.

Not an uncommon reaction.

Woody thought otherwise. Joel left the party at eleven, came home, his mother ragged him out for being late, so he killed her. There was motive. There was opportunity. There were those two hours in the timeline that Joel didn't have an alibi for.

And there had been Deborah's blood on Joel's hands and clothes. That and the knife left at the scene with Joel's fingerprints on it had pretty much sealed Joel's fate for Woody.

The boy was guilty.

Jordan still didn't see it. Woody said her own mother'smurder was impairing her judgment.

"No such thing," she had snapped back. "The forensics don't add up. Joel has no cuts on him. Someone that did that would have gotten their hands wet with blood. At sometime, the knife would have slipped….he would have cuts on his hands."

"Not always."

"His clothes didn't have splatter on them…they were saturated with blood. There's a difference."

"That doesn't always happen either…not with stabbings."

"Woody….there's too many things that don't add up to make me think Joel did it…."

"And you're not on the jury. It doesn't matter what you think. You just have to give your report," he retorted. "And there's enough evidence to make the jury think he did…no alibi, motive, opportunity….and no forced entry."

"That only means that Deborah knew her killer. She let him in."

Woody leaned closer into Jordan's face. "Your history is impairing your judgment, Dr. Cavanaugh. I need your report on my desk, ASAP. Do you understand?"

Jordan had swallowed and nodded. He'd have her report. It just wouldn't tell him what he wanted to hear.


	3. Jailed

**Chapter Two**

_**Still one year earlier….**_

She was right. He didn't like the autopsy report. Neither did Rene. By noon, there was another autopsy being done on Deborah Brady. A blind, independent autopsy by another ME. Jordan stood back and watched as Dr. Sanders re-examined and re-opened Deborah's body. He didn't say much during the autopsy, just promised Woody and Rene' that they would have his results within 48 hours. After he left, she began to repair Deborah's body and get it ready to go back to the crypt. Everyone had left after the second autopsy. Woody wouldn't even look at her. Walcott didn't speak a word to her. Garret had stood by Jordan and reached out once, squeezing her hand sympathetically.

In the now-empty autopsy room, Jordan re-stitched Deborah Brady's body. She often had wondered what these people would say about their earthly remains being opened and sometimes re-opened in order to try to find out how they died. She was so caught up in her thoughts and her work that she didn't hear Woody re-enter the room.

"Hey," he said, to get her attention. Jordan jumped at the sudden noise.

"Hey yourself," she said, just glancing at him and then returning to her work.

"I just wanted to say that this wasn't my idea. Walcott was screaming for a blind and independent autopsy."

"I know. Garret told me." She finished her last few stitches and tied off the thread. Then pulling the sheet back up over Deborah Brady, she secured it, and began to push the cart to the crypt. Woody followed closely at her heels, suddenly having a hard time keeping up with her.

"Jordan," he said, reaching the elevator the same time she did. "Look. I don't want this case to come between us. It's nothing personal."

"I know, Woody. But even when we were at each other's throats," the elevator door opened and she pushed the body cart in, "I never let you down professionally. I've always told you the truth…I've always forensically been right. When you're an ME, you ignore all the other evidence and everything else that is being said and listen to the body." She got on the elevator herself and was surprised when Woody followed behind her.

"All I know is that Walcott is gunning for an arrest by the end of this week."

"Walcott is gunning for my job."

Woody sighed. The feud between the two women was well-known and he wasn't sure how far off base Jordan was in her assumption. "I just wanted you to know that this wasn't my doings. I read your report last night. Sure, I didn't like it, but it made sense. You said that the murderer knelt on Deborah's chest when he cut her throat, and that he had to weigh between 180 and 200 pounds by the bruises he left where his knees were. Joel weighs 145 pounds. That's a big difference."

"So now you don't think Joel killed his mother?"

"I didn't say that. I just said forensically it didn't add up. There's still the other evidence to consider."

"That's all circumstantial." The elevator doors opened. She pushed the body into the crypt and signed it back in. "If that's the best you can do, then Joel's going to walk. You know that, don't you?"

"Never underestimate a jury, Jordan."

She shook her head. "They'll have more common sense than Walcott does if she brings Joel to trial."

"I didn't come here to discuss my boss's abilities. I just wanted to make sure that things were still okay between us…that this hasn't driven a wedge between us."

Jordan looked up into his blue eyes that could still make her knees buckle and her will melt. Sighing, she shrugged her shoulders. "No. Why would it?"

Gently placing his hands on her shoulders, he softly replied, "Because this," he motioned with one arm sweeping around the room, "is just a job. This," his finger came to rest on her heart, "is about us. And that's far more important."

She nodded, blinking back the tears. He cared for her. She knew he did…it just seemed like sometimes everything just got in the way. "I need to go now. I promised Nige I'd meet him for lunch."

Woody let her go and watched her walk away. She was still running from him…still shying away from her emotions to a degree, even after everything they had been through.

Jordan ate with Nigel at a new Thai restaurant around the corner from the morgue, the Brady case forgotten for the moment as the two old friends got caught up with events over the last several days. Everything seemed normal until she and Nigel got back to their offices. There were uniformed police in Jordan's office as well as trace. Woody was there, too, frantically looking for something…and Rene, looking coolly sure of herself. "Hey, what's going on?" she asked the police who were looking through her office.

"They can't find the blood evidence you had," Garret said. "The clothes from off Joel Brady."

"But Woody tagged them and bagged them….then we both walked them over here. I looked over them in trace, re-tagged them, signed them back in, and locked the evidence locker."

"They're not here now, Jordan. What did you do with them?" Woody asked.

She stared at him in disbelief. "I didn't do anything with them, Woody. Nothing."

"Are you sure? All you told the detectives was that the clothing was saturated…no blood splatter. Did you get rid of evidence so Joel wouldn't be convicted…at least until you could make your case?" asked Walcott.

"I didn't need to do anything to make that case. My autopsy report and Dr. Sanders will show that there was no way Joel could have killed his mother."

"Dr. Cavanaugh, I'm going to ask you this point-blank. Did you take or are you hiding evidence pertaining to the Brady case?" continued Rene'.

"No. Of course not."

"It's not here," said one of the officers coming out of her office.

"And I just got a report that it's not at her apartment," said Woody, carefully avoiding Jordan's eyes.

"You searched my apartment? Without telling me?" she asked him, anger ringing every syllable of her voice.

"In all fairness to Detective Hoyt….and whatever you two have or don't have together, he didn't know," chimed in Rene.

"Okay," Woody said, with a note of finality in his voice. "Now what?"

"We take her in…hold her until she tells us where Joel's bloody clothing is," replied Rene'.

"You're taking me to _jail_?" Jordan asked, completely incredulous. "Garret? Can they do this?"

"They can for now…but I'll be over in a few minutes with a lawyer."

"Kim…call my friend Kim who's a lawyer…her number is in my Rolodex," she called out as the officers were leading her off.


	4. Many Questions, Few Answers

**Chapter Three**

_**Still one year earlier….**_

She was being held for contempt. And she would continue to be held until she handed over the evidence she had pilfered from the evidence locker, Rene' had told her.

The only problem was, she didn't have Joel's bloody clothes. How could she hand over something she didn't have?

Kim had come and they talked briefly. After being reassured by Jordan that she had signed the clothes back in after trace and had not touched them again, Kim was going before Judge McNeil to get Rene's authority overridden and have Jordan released.

Garret had come with Kim and stayed after the lawyer left. "Jordan," he asked softly, "I know how wrapped up you can get in a case…especially in one where you feel you're right…so be honest with me now…did you do something with those clothes…misplace them…move them…to buy you time to prove Joel's innocence?"

The patronizing tone in Garret's voice sent a chill up Jordan's spine. She would be the first one to admit that in her past she had crossed the line with some of her cases in her passion to pursue the truth. But she had never tampered with evidence….the holy grail of any trial…the integrity of any police department….the Bible of any morgue. She couldn't believe Garret had asked her that. "No. Absolutely not. Never. And I'm surprised and hurt that you asked me that question. You know me better than that Garret Macy."

"I'm sorry, Jordan. I just had to hear it from you. I have to know. Because if the evidence is found and they can somehow link you to moving it or hiding it, you know your career is over."

She nodded. "I know. But I didn't do anything to it."

Garret blew out a frustrated sigh. "Okay. I'm going back to the morgue and have Nigel and Bug turn the place inside out to find it. The police did a hack job today. Will you be all right by yourself…in here?"

"Sure. Just peachy. The accommodations are wonderful. Hot and cold running cops. What more can I ask for?"

"I'll be back as soon as I can."

She nodded and Garret left. Hours passed. She paced. She sat on the edge of her cot. She desperately wished for something to read…something to pass the time away. Finally she dozed off, only to be woken a while later by a soft voice and a familiar hand shaking her awake. "Hey….how are you doing?"

Sleepily, she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Woody always thought she looked like a three year-old waking up…slowly, somewhat reluctantly, sleep hazing her eyes and her hair tousled. At least that was his impression of her the few times he had coaxed her into spending the night at his place…after making love and falling asleep in his arms. She would look like a little kid, until she would reach up and kiss him, reminding him sharply that she was a woman….

"Gee, how am I doing? I love what you have done with this place…"

"Jordan, this was not my idea. Rene' has gone berserk on this case."

"Don't you think putting me in here….holding me for contempt is a little much? Especially since I haven't touched the clothes since you and I looked at them in trace?"

"This wasn't my decision. You have to know that."

"I know your job is helping the DA build a case. And my job is to help you. How can I do that in here?"

Woody looked at her, carefully choosing his next words. "If you could just tell me where you may have put them…maybe absent-mindedly you put them in another locker? A file drawer? With Nigel's things?"

Shocked, Jordan looked at him. "You know that I am well aware the protocol concerning evidence and that I've never broken it. I'm surprised at you."

"I've seen how you get when you're really wrapped up in a case, Jordan. You'll do almost anything."

"Not that. Not me." Her voice was soft…hurt. She lowered her head, not wanting to look in his eyes, closing up to him. She drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and rested her forehead on top.

Woody gently touched her shoulder. She didn't stir. "Is there anything I can get you?"

"I don't know…do I get bread and water for supper? Am I entitled to a phone call?"

"Jordan, don't be like this…"

"How the hell am I supposed to be? I'm accused of something I didn't do…asked to produce something I didn't take, and have been told my career as an ME is probably over. It's not been a good day, Woody. Now please leave."

* * *

So he had…he left and went back to his office, unsure of what to do next. Due to his relationship with Jordan, he really couldn't work on finding the missing evidence. All he could do was wait, and pray that it turned up somewhere…anywhere not linked to her. He buried himself behind paperwork until his door swung open without a knock.

"You know she didn't do this, Hoyt." It was Max. Jordan must have made her phone call.

"I had nothing to do with this, Max."

"She didn't do it. Jordan's done some crazy things in her career…even stupid…but not this. She wouldn't take evidence, even to buy her some time. She has too much respect for the system to do that."

"I don't think she took it, either, but right now, it looks suspicious…and until we find Joel's clothes, I'm afraid she's in Rene's cross hairs."

"Can't you do something?"

"There's nothing I can do. My hands are tied, due to my relationship with Jordan. They won't let me near the case. I'm lucky they let me near her. The only thing I can hope for is that the evidence is found miles away from anywhere Jordan has been."

"When will they let her out?"

Woody sighed. "You know with contempt, there's no bail." Max nodded. "So until she tells them where the evidence is…or it shows up, she's going to be staying with us for a while."

"Not my baby. Not in jail."

"She's in solitary. No one will hurt her. The guards all know her and they'll look out for her. I'll check in on her several times a day."

Max looked down at Woody's desk and then his head swung back up to look Woody in the eye. Suddenly Jordan's father looked older…older than Woody had ever known him to appear…but his voice held a coldness Woody had never heard coming from Max before. "If anyone hurts Jordan, I want you to know, there's going to be hell to pay."

Woody swallowed hard. He understood Max's dilemma and to tell the truth, he felt the same way. He didn't want Jordan hurt in any form…physically or professionally.

But his own career was hanging by a thread with the department. He cared for her. He really did. And the attraction he felt for her was stronger than anything he had felt for any woman in a long time…maybe ever. However, he had to ask himself was it really worth it?

He knew what he had told her earlier…_This…this is just a career. This…what's between us…is what's really important_. But he had worked hard to become a detective. He had wanted to be a cop all his life…ever since his father was killed in the line of police duty; it had been his burning desire.

Could he possibly let Jordan take that away from him?

And she might very well do that, if Joel's clothes didn't turn up. They had worked together on the Brady case. It wouldn't be far-fetched for the department to tie him in with the disappearance of the evidence. Then his career….the one he had worked at for so long…sacrificed so much for….would be over.

And being a cop was the only thing he really knew how to do. It was the only job he had ever wanted. How would he support himself?

Could he live without being in law enforcement?

More importantly, could he live without her?

Woody ran his fingers through his hair…he was afraid he may have to answer at least one of those questions soon…and he wasn't sure if he liked the answers.


	5. A Year Later

**Chapter Four**

_**Present**_

It had taken Kim three days to get Jordan out of jail.

_And I've never taken my freedom for granted again_, she thought as she walked home from St. Inez. Those three days she had been in the Boston Central Jail had been mental torture. Her dad had come by. Daily. It forged their father-daughter relationship even closer. Nigel came. Also daily. When Kim had finally gotten her released, she had gone back to her apartment, showered, cooked dinner…and fell asleep in her bed, thankful that she had eaten what she wanted to and was able to sleep in her own bed.

The next day she had gone over to Max's. At that point, Joel's clothing had still not been found and she was not allowed back at work until they were. She stayed with her dad until it was time to open the bar. Then she went to the Pogue. "You know this bar is still yours," Max had told her. She knew what he was hinting at. If she wasn't able to go back to work as a medical examiner, she could always depend on the Pogue for an income.

But she didn't have to. The next morning, Woody woke her up, banging on the door of her apartment. She hadn't seen him since her release. "I've come to take you to the station," he told her. "Get dressed as fast as you can."

"Why? Is Rene' hauling my butt back to jail?"

"No. They've found Joel's clothes."

"Where?" she had asked. If it was anywhere near where she had been, she knew she was kissing her career goodbye.

"In a policeman's car…I'll explain later. Rene's getting ready to eat crow ala Jordan." He had grinned and gave her a push towards her bedroom.

Finally dressed, Woody had driven her over to the courthouse. Rene', the judge, a uniformed officer, Garret, and Kim were already there. Kim had thrown her a big smile. Briefly Rene' had explained what happened. The evidence had been found by Officer Lee Guthrie in a police car that was normally signed out to another officer, Frank Bellini. Under some duress and hard questioning by Rene', Bellini confessed to taking the evidence from the locker. However, he had yet to tell them why he took it.

Jordan grimaced. Why had no one in the morgue thought to question the officer when he removed the evidence?

Garret answered her unvoiced question. "Bellini came in after most everyone had gone home. I guess the security guard or what few personnel that were on duty didn't think to question him."

"And instead it all came back on me."

Garret lowered his head. "Unfortunately, yes."

"It's good to know I'm so well thought of," Jordan said, her voice catching just a bit.

"So Dr. Cavanaugh's record remains clear of any charges and she's free to return to work?" Judge McNeil asked. Rene' nodded.

"Not so fast," Kim had chimed in. "She deserves a public apology from the DA over this. And a copy of the apology put in her record. Plus back pay for the time she was wrongfully incarcerated."

Jordan didn't think it would happen…she couldn't see Rene' apologizing to anyone…but it happened. In front of the TV cameras. On the courthouse steps. Reporters asked Jordan if she still thought Joel was innocent.

"As of right now, unless some other evidence comes forward, I do. I believe Joel Thomas Brady did not kill his mother. The evidence doesn't support it."

Jordan sighed as she reached her apartment, slowly climbing the steps up to her home. She had been right. Too right. Deborah Brady did not die at the hands of her son. She was the first victim of a serial killer that was snaking his way up and down the East Coast.

That same day, another body, victimized just like Deborah's had been, was found outside Cambridge. Two days later, one in Hartford, Connecticut. A month later, one in Wilmington, Delaware. Jordan soon had found herself in the middle of helping solve a multi-state serial killer. Soon she was the leading expert on what the press was calling the "Slash and Dash" killer.

Joel had been released from prison by this time…the mounting evidence proved he did not murder his mother. He received no apology from Rene' or Woody. Jordan did manage to link him back up with Nancy Edwards, the foster mother Joel had loved so much as a child. They had re-located outside of Boston and the last she heard, Joel was doing well in college. She smiled as she let herself into her apartment. At least some good had come of that whole debacle.

She hadn't been so lucky. While she regained her freedom, Jordan had found herself becoming increasingly cynical to those around her…those who had questioned her actions about the missing evidence. Rene'. Garret.

Woody.

She threw her bag and keys on the counter, and made her way into her bedroom to change out of the dress she wore to church. As she struggled with her zipper and buttons, she knew that was when it had happened … A wall went up so thick and high around herself that now very few people were allowed in her life. No one that didn't trust her anyway.

Woody had questioned his actions…and then he had questioned hers. "I was just doing my job," he told her.

"You were the one that said that it was 'just a job …. The most important thing was us'," she challenged him.

"But given your background…you have to see why I had to ask you if you could have done this."

"I didn't, though, did I? I told you I didn't, and Bellini confessed up." She shook her head as she changed into jeans and a t-shirt. They couldn't seem to get over it…her incarceration…his questions. He had hurt her and she didn't understand him. Instead of falling back into each other's arms….the easy rhythm they had as a couple, they were circling each other like two prize fighters, just waiting to see who would throw the next punch. In the end it was Woody. She came into work several weeks afterwards to find an envelop on her desk. It said _Jordan_ across the front in his handwriting.

She hadn't looked at the note in several months. Walking over to her bed, she sat down on the side and opened the drawer to her nightstand, and withdrew the envelop from the box she kept it in…along with other small mementoes of her time with Woody. Carefully, she drew out the letter, and spread it out to read it once more…adding to the hundreds of times she already had:

_Jordan,_

_You these past few weeks have been difficult for me. So much has been on my mind…I'm questioning everything now. My career choice. My dedication to my job. You. Me. Us. Is there an 'us' anymore?_

_I'm going away for a few weeks. Probably a little longer than a month. I'm getting away to clear my head and think some things through. I'll be back before long. _

_The only thing I ask that you do is don't try to find me. I know you could. And if you couldn't do it, you could get Nigel to. Just. Please. Don't. I need this time away and alone to try to figure myself out. What kind of man am I? _

_I love you, Jordan. I'll be back soon. And when I return, I hope we can get things back to normal between us._

_Love,_

_Woody._

Jordan had respected his request. She didn't try to find him. She had been sorely tempted, but she never did.

Not once in the last year.


	6. Together Again

**Chapter Five**

And it had been a long year for Jordan. While her reputation was restored professionally, the Slash and Dash killer was taking up more and more of her time…to the point where she was nearly working only part time at the morgue and spent the rest of her time working with police in various states trying to find the murderer. The victims now led a trail from Maine to Georgia. She was spending more time on planes than she liked.

For the first time in her life, she was the expert on one killer. And the media spotlight often focused on her. Nigel had teased her and bought her a pair of sunglasses, proclaiming that Jordan had "gone Hollywood." Garret had called her the next Henry Lee.

And she would have given it all up just to have Woody back home. Reporters often asked her if she was working this case in conjunction with the lead detective from the Deborah Brady case…the first Slash and Dash victim. She would quietly answer "No." The lead detective had been Woody. And she didn't know where he was at.

He was gone…and evidently had lied to her as one month led to another and then another and there was no sign of him. His chief said he had taken an indefinite leave of absence, and she did inquire enough to find out that he had sublet his apartment for several months. After that, adhering to his request, she made no effort to find him.

It hurt. He left her. She knew what he said…that he was questioning everything…them, his job…himself. But as time passed, she couldn't help but wonder if he had found the answers to his questions and those answers didn't include her in the equation. She found that cynical shell she was spinning around herself just got a little thicker. Her faith in her fellow man and life itself diminished just a little more.

But somewhere in the darkest corner of her heart, she held out hope that he would come back…that he would return and things would be like they were before the Brady case. When he would hold his fingers through her hair….kiss her.

Make love to her.

But as the weeks continued to bleed into months and then yet another year, that corner of her heart got darker and smaller. If you weren't her dad or Nigel, you really couldn't find much of a place in her life. Even Garret found it difficult to maintain a close relationship with his favorite ME. She remembered his doubts about her…Jordan found it impossible to work with Rene' and quite often refused to on professional grounds. A point no one would argue with.

And so her life continued…working at the morgue and spending time with her father at the Pogue….all the while the Slash and Dash killer providing the backdrop that so drastically changed her life in ways she considered for the worst. If they ever caught the killer, she wanted to see him or her face to face…to confront the person that had so altered her own life she nearly didn't recognize it any longer. This Slash and Dash killer had morphed her professional career into one she had never dreamed of, while dashing her personal life on the rocks of regret. Whoever this killer was, she hated him.

She never had the slightest clue it would be the killer that would bring her life back full circle. But it happened. One day in June a call came into her voice mail from a sheriff's department in North Carolina…in a little county called Alamance….it seemed they thought they had the latest victim of the Slash and Dash killer.

* * *

North Carolina was a state of extremes. On one hand you had the larger cities, such as Charlotte, who were brassy and sophisticated…then you had the university areas such as Durham, Chapel Hill, and Raleigh that boasted not only some of the East Coast's finest academic havens, but also the Holy Grail of ACC basketball. On the other hand you had the counties nestled back in the Appalachian Mountains that still had difficulty getting electricity and running water.

Somewhere in between lay the tiny county of Alamance, nearly midway between the mountains and the beach. The county seat was a small town called Graham, complete with a real courthouse square and Confederate Solider monument. _If you didn't know better, you'd swear you could see Andy, Barnie, Opie, and Aunt Bea on the courthouse steps,_ thought Jordan, as she was being driven to the sheriff's department. Her plane had landed in Greensboro, about thirty minutes outside Graham. A deputy was there to pick her up.

It was difficult to believe that a crime and heinous as a serial killing could touch such a charming place. But Alamance County lay on the main highway corridor that the killer was favoring – the I-85 link. A body had been found lying in the kudzu by some early morning hunters. The sheriff had taken one look at it, ran it through the national computer systems and came up with the hunch it could the Slash and Dash's latest victim. He had promptly contacted Jordan.

The car pulled up into the parking lot of the tiny sheriff's department and Jordan went inside, glad to be out of the stifling North Carolina humidity and into the cool air conditioning. A large man greeted her as soon as she came through the office doors. "Hi my name is Roger….Roger Dennings. I'm the sheriff…I'm the one who called you."

"Good to meet you…Why do you think this latest victim was the Slash's last kill?"

"You get right to the point, don't you? That's good….Let's just say we don't have too many unusual killings in this part of the state…it's mainly your standard knifings or shootings…not a whole lot different from any other homicide. This was different….the way the victim was tortured and then killed….the bruising pattern on the chest…the fact that she was a past prostitute….the way the body was dumped…and where the body was found…along the main highway that goes up and down the East Coast…I thought this murder fit the description pretty good. And given public hysteria is what it is…I wanted it either ruled in or ruled out as soon as possible."

"When can I get my hands on the body?"

"Tomorrow. Our main ME office is in Chapel Hill. I'll have one of my deputies take you and our other expert over in the morning."

"Other expert?"

"Yeah. I ran him down, too." The sheriff took Jordan by the arm and led her to his office. "I believe you two know each other."

Jordan glanced over at the sheriff's couch. There was Woody.


	7. Choices

**Chapter Six**

The same shock that Jordan was sure registered on her face mirrored itself in Woody's. He was no more expecting to see her than she was him. She quickly regained her composure as Denning showed her around the tiny sheriff's office and the room that she and Woody would work in. All of the evidence his deputies had gathered had been put in there, along with the initial autopsy reports from the ME in Chapel Hill. After some brief initial conversation with Denning, the sheriff turned everything over to them. "Make yourself at home…bathrooms are down the hall to the left, break room is on the right. When you want lunch, there's a great barbeque place down the street." And with that the sheriff turned and left them alone.

"Gee, fancy meeting you here," was the first thing out of Jordan's mouth.

"Um. Yeah. Roger Denning was pretty persistent. He called the Boston PD and couldn't find me…but evidently he had enough friends in high places that he was able to track me down. He did some tall talking, but he persuaded me to come here," Woody replied. There was an awkward pause between the two of them as they pretended to survey the evidence. "I guess we need to clear the air about some things before we start working together again."

'I just want you to know that I had nothing to do with Roger bringing you here. I didn't know you were going to be here until I showed up," she finally said, after another awkward pause.

"Would that have prevented you from coming – me being here?"

"No. I've been helping out in a lot of these cases."

"So I've heard." Woody stepped closer to her. Jordan automatically stepped back until she hit a wall in the small room. She nervously crossed her arms over her chest. "From what I can tell, you're the leading expert on the Slash and Dash," he continued.

She let out a humorless laugh. "So they say. Hell of a field to be an expert in."

"Yeah. I guess Denning feels that if he has both of us together, he can get to the bottom of the killings."

"We weren't able to do that in Boston. What makes him think we can do that now?"

"Time. Time and more evidence, I guess." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Look, I just don't want you to be uncomfortable working with me again. I know it's been a while since we've seen each other…"

"You told me you'd be back in a month or so. Did you not check your calendar? It's been two years, Woody. And no word from you."

"I know. It's just….after a while, it got easier to _not_ call you…I knew you had probably gotten on with your life…and I was still trying to figure mine out. I didn't want to interrupt anything."

She snorted. "So you didn't think I wouldn't even want to know if you were alright?"

Woody hung his head. "I really didn't know. After the Brady fiasco, I was questioning everything."

"I know." Jordan straightened her back and pulled away from the wall, her arms still crossed as she stepped closer to Woody to confront him. "I just want to make three things perfectly clear. First, I didn't run this time….you did. Second, I have no problems working with you again. The more people on this case that know how the killer thinks and works, the quicker it will be solved and everyone's lives can return to normal. And third," she tapped her finger on his chest. "I honored your last request."

"My last request?" He looked at her, his blue eyes puzzled.

"You asked me not to try to find you. I didn't and haven't. If Roger Denning found you through the Boston PD or whomever, he did it on his own without my help."

* * *

_It was an awkward afternoon_, Woody reflected, later that night, lying on his back in the bed of his hotel room. Around five, he and Jordan had called it quits for the day and a deputy had driven them to a hotel where they had reserved rooms. Adjoining rooms….although he was sure Jordan would make sure the door between the two was kept tightly shut. They had been promised a rental car the next day. Evidently Sheriff Denning anticipated they would be working closely enough together to not warrant getting two rental vehicles.

_She's changed. She's more cynical…tougher…than she was before the Brady case. I guess I shouldn't be surprised._ He tried flipping on the TV in order to try and distract his thoughts. He heard water running in the other room. She must be getting a shower. He could remember a time when they'd occasionally do that together….a long time ago. He swallowed and worked harder to pull himself away from thoughts of her….and them.

After the Brady case, he had decided he needed time…what happened, although it seemed to some that the events were just coincidence, shook him. He had learned something about himself during that investigation – he needed stability. Something and someone he could count on in his life to always be the same.

The fact that Jordan had been suspected of pilfering evidence….and the reality that she was jailed for it threw his world into a tailspin emotionally. Jordan's history had made her a ready suspect for the offence. And the Boston PD was ready and willing to imprison her on little evidence. Both events shook Woody's confidence in the two things he held dear….Jordan and police work.

Could he live without one or the other? Could both somehow peacefully coexist?

And if he had to choose between the two, could he?

Police work was all he knew how to do. It was all he ever wanted to do.

But he loved her.

He sighed and rolled over, flipping the TV off. She had barely spoken to him at all today. He may not have to decide between the two after all. Jordan may have made the choice for him.


	8. Keep Her Safe

**Chapter Seven**

The next morning found Jordan on her way to Chapel Hill to look at the body of the latest victim. She rode with another detective, leaving Woody with Sheriff Denning and the detectives that were working on the case. Woody didn't see her until late afternoon, when she arrived back at the office with an armful of files, reports, and pictures. He helped her set them down on the work table in the room they had been given.

"I'll give Denning one thing," she told Woody as they began to sort through the information, making some kind of order out of the chaos. If all the other agencies had been as thorough as he has been about collecting this evidence and comparing it to what was in the national data base, Slash and Dash would have been caught a long time ago."

Woody nodded. He had spent the afternoon with Denning and the lead detective. He had come to the same conclusion. "I agree…but it's still going to take some time. I have a feeling we may be here for a while. Do you think Macy will have a problem with that?"

"Garret? You know him. He's glad to get me out of his hair. Now, Nigel…Nigel may have a problem with it because when I'm gone his work load doubles…but Garret would like to have this case wrapped up and get me back home for good without any more chances of me being pulled out again. So I think he'll give me the time if we're really making progress."

Woody grunted. Progress was being made, but it was slow going. "It's getting there, Jo, but it's going to take a little bit. You may be here longer than you want to be."

"That's fine…just as long as we get our man."

"Like the old days?"

She gave him a grin. A small thing, but it sent his mind racing back to remember just how good it used to be. "Yeah," she replied. "Just like the old days."

That afternoon they spent their time review the evidence that Woody had gotten from the lead detective, Steve White, and the information that Jordan brought back with her from the morgue. Tomorrow, she was going back to Chapel Hill one more time to look over the body before it was released for burial.

And it was like old times between she and Woody, working together to solve a case, except she was very careful not to let her hand brush his as they passed information back and forth…and she studiously avoided looking into his blue eyes….eyes that could still make her knees go weak and all reasoning go out of her head. Finally, around six, she was ready to call it a day. "I need to go back and e-mail Nigel to ask him to send me some of my files from back in Boston," she said.

"I've got the car….I'll drive," Woody said, dangling the keys in front of her face. She reached out to grab them and he moved them out of her reach.

"Woody," she protested, "I can drive….if you need to stay here and work, I can drive myself back to the hotel and you can catch a ride with Steve or Roger."

"Nope. I'm through, too." He got up from the table and helped her gather her things. "There's no sense in putting anyone out just because we have issues about being with each other."

"I told you, I don't have a problem working with you again."

"Work is one thing. Personal issues are another," he said helping her to the car.

He had a point. On some level today, Jordan had to nearly pinch herself…it was like two years apart had never happened. They could still finish each other's sentences…they knew how each other thought. His eyes could still work their magic on her….and she couldn't help but wonder if his kisses were still just as sweet…

Or if another woman claimed those kisses for her own by now. She sighed and was quiet the rest of the way back to the hotel. Woody grabbed her brief case and a box of files she had brought with her to work on that evening and took them up to her room. She opened the door and he dropped them on a nearby table, all the while surveying her hotel room. It was neat. She had organized the few things she had brought and made it seem like home. By contrast, he had left his room in a mess. Whirlwind Woody had struck that morning.

She turned on her laptop and connected to the internet. "I'm e-mailing Nige now….anything you need from the Boston PD?"

"No, I think I'm good," he said, leaning over the back of her chair to see what she was writing…she requested certain files, pictures, and reports. Then she asked how everyone was doing and for him to please make sure her plants were watered. She also mentioned she was working with him again.

"You think Nige needs to know that?" he asked.

"Know that I'm working with you? I think he'd be interested, seeing that none of us heard from you in nearly two years….it was like you dropped off the face of the earth. Where'd you go, Woody?"

He knew the question had been coming….he anticipated it. "Florida," he said quietly.

"Florida? What were you doing in Florida?"

"I worked part time with my uncle down there….he owns an airboat business."

"So you got out of police work completely?"

"Police work, yes. Investigation, no. I worked as a private investigator, too."

"Really? Anything interesting?"

He nodded and moved to the other side of the small table to face her. "Yeah. I did follow up for the last three families on this Slash and Dash perp."

Jordan's eyes widened. "I didn't know. No wonder Denning wanted you and me on this case."

Woody swallowed hard. "Roger wanted me….but I was the one that requested you."

Jordan felt the blood drain from her face. "You were the one that requested me?"

"Yeah. But I had Denning make the call. I didn't think you'd fly to North Carolina for me."

"It's an investigation, Woody. Personal issues would be set aside. You know that."

"I know. But I wanted you for personal reasons, too."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "Personal reasons?"

"I needed to talk to you again."

"You could have called. I haven't changed my cell phone number…the morgue number's the same. So is my apartment's."

"Not the same. I needed to see you face to face…and I didn't think you'd do that…"

He was right. She wouldn't. Too much had happened…too much time had passed.

But her curiosity tweaked her interest. "Why? Why did you need to see me, Woody?"

* * *

He never got to answer that question.

Now, days and hundreds of miles later, the question still remained hanging out there, unanswered.

And it would have to remain unanswered. It would come up again. Woody knew it would. But right now it wasn't important.

Getting Jordan somewhere safe was the most important thing on his mind right now. He glanced over at her sleeping figure, sitting next to him on the small plane. She was exhausted and tired. She needed to rest. He adjusted the blanket around her more comfortably and watched her sleep.

Everything had happened so quickly, he was still adjusting to it. Nigel had sent her the information she needed. She had compared it to what Denning had. She had nearly solved the case before she arrived in North Carolina. The sheriff's information just solidified her ideas.

The women who were getting killed were former prostitutes…females that had found their way out of that way of making a living and were now living productive lives. Deborah Brady was the first victim. Joel had filled Jordan in fully on his mother's life and how she was trying to turn her past around.

At first, Jordan thought it may be a former pimp that was killing these women out of revenge and to make them an example. The only problem was that she couldn't make that idea stick. So now she believed that it was a former john that all these women had in common…probably a man that traveled, since these women were located up and down the main highways of the East Coast.

She had begun making a list of suspects. As a matter of fact, Woody had been surprised how far along she was forensically with the case.

And it had been making someone uncomfortable. She had received a threatening letter while in Graham. She hadn't thought too much about it, she had received them before. But _before_ Woody wasn't there. He intercepted the letter and became alarmed.

After showing it to Denning, the sheriff became concerned. At that moment, Jordan was in Chapel Hill performing a few more follow up tests on her evidence. Alone. A deputy was sent immediately to retrieve her. Meanwhile, Woody had phoned Garret to see if Jordan had received any threats while in Boston. "A few," he replied. "But you know her. She blew it off."

Woody bit his lip. Whoever this perp was, he wasn't one to be taken lightly. Deciding that Jordan didn't need to be left alone, he tagged along side her everywhere she had gone, except the women's bathroom. He insisted that she leave the door between their hotel rooms open.

At first, she had laughed off his worries…pooh-poohed his concerned. Woody shrugged off her manner and continued to dog her.

Until last night. She woke him up, slipping between the door that separated their rooms, shaking him awake, panic on her face. "Woody," she said, her voice carrying a note of urgency and fear…something you didn't hear often from Jordan Cavanaugh.

"Wha? He asked, trying to figure out what was going on…slowly waking from sleep, momentarily shocked and glad to find Jordan sitting on the edge of his bed. Until she handed him the envelope that she had found shoved under her room door…threatening her with the same death as the other victims if she didn't stop working on the case.

Now the killer knew where she was at. That was not something to be blown off. A quick phone call to Denning brought two things…permission to leave, since the case was wrapping up anyway, and a flight further south. Woody was taking Jordan to the safest place he knew right now….one the killer wasn't aware of…his uncle's house in Florida. There he could keep an eye on her until an arrest was made.

Jordan didn't want to go…she wanted to go back to Boston. But Garret had asked her for once, just to listen to others…trust other people again for once…and she'd be back home in no time.

She had replied she trusted no one but herself now…and had no faith in anything but her science.

Woody had swallowed hard and filed that fact away in his head. Jordan didn't trust him…that was why she was so cool to him…cynical. But now she was in a position she had to, in order to stay safe, maybe even keep her very own life. Could she trust him?

Would he let her down again?

He gently brushed the hair out of her eyes. He wouldn't disappoint her…maybe she could learn that she could trust him again.

Maybe he could make a choice between her or police work, if he had to.

And maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.


	9. Marathon

**Chapter Eight**

His uncle's house was off the beaten track, in Marathon, Florida….in the middle of the Keys. Woody had loved it from the moment he sat foot there as a boy. After their mother died, Woody and Cal would often spend their summer vacations with Uncle Jack. It would give their father a break from the pressures of single parenthood…and give the boys a much needed respite from their stressed-out dad.

His first priority was Jordan's safety. Marathon was small. He had gotten to know the police and harbor patrol there pretty well…they had been fascinated with his former life as a "big city cop" in Boston. Woody knew he could count on their cooperation in watching over Jordan. They would let him know if there was anything or anyone suspicious around.

But he also hoped that maybe, in this place where time seemed to stand still, both of their guards could slip down just a little. He could explain why he had to leave Boston and stay gone for so long. Maybe he could restore her faith in a humanity that seemed to repeatedly keep knocking her feet out from under her.

And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to trust him again.

She hadn't said a word to him after their "puddle jumper" landed and they drove into Marathon in Woody's jeep. She was too busy looking around, taking in the sights of the bay and the tropical growth, her hair blowing in the wind, whipping around her face. "It's beautiful," she finally shouted to him, over the noise of the engine and breeze flipping the canvas top of his vehicle.

"Yeah. I've been coming here since I was ten…and I still find myself awed over the beauty of it….wait until you see the sunsets."

She nodded, one hand holding onto the side of the jeep. "Why here, Woody?"

"It's small…and I know the law enforcement here," he said, turning the jeep onto a small, gravel road. "If there's anyone suspicious around, I'll know in a matter of minutes. People tend to watch out for each other in Marathon." He pulled into a driveway. His uncle's house sat back off the road a couple of hundred yards or so. "Here it is, Jordan. You'll be safe here until Denning and his men can make an arrest."

It was a rambling gray house…two stories with a wrap around porch, looking directly over the bay. A short walk out the den door would lead you to the ocean. A large, yellow cat lay on the porch railing. He arched his back and tried to rub against Jordan as she climbed up the steps. "Scat, Butterbean," Woody said.

"Butterbean?" Jordan asked.

Woody pulled a face. "Don't ask. People are big animal lovers here. Uncle Jack has that cat and two dogs. The island has a dolphin refuge and a turtle hospital."

"Dolphins?" Woody caught the delighted note in her voice.

"Yeah. I'll take you over one day. You can swim with them."

Her face darkened for a moment. "I don't have a swimsuit."

He grinned. "I'm sure we can find you one in town. Don't worry about it."

Opening the door, he led Jordan in the house. Stairs led off the entrance, the den was on the left and the kitchen and dining room was on the right. Woody motioned her to follow him up the stairs. "Your bedroom is there…and mine is next to it." He pushed her bedroom door open. It was tastefully furnished in blues tones. "Make yourself at home. By the way, we're sharing an adjoining bathroom. Just lock my door when you're in there and I'll know not to barge through."

* * *

Jordan did. She unpacked and made a list of a few personal things she needed when she and Woody went in town to get her bathing suit. She set up her laptop and changed into cooler clothes. Then she went back downstairs to find Woody on the back deck, looking at the bay.

"I can see why you ran to Florida," she said, coming up quietly behind him.

"Can you?" he asked, turning around to face her, leaning on the deck railing.

"Yes. It's beautiful here….warm and quiet. You can think. If I would have known about this place, I would have come here long ago."

"It's not Boston, though."

"Yeah…I know what they say about 'there's no place like home', but Boston hasn't exactly been fair to either of us."

"How are things there, Jo? You've barely mentioned it since I first saw you in North Carolina."

She shrugged and leaned against the deck rail, facing him, her forearms resting on the wood. She had on jean shorts and a t-shirt, and sunglasses covered her honey-colored eyes so he couldn't read her thoughts. "Things are okay…Garret still stresses out over the least little thing sometimes…he and Rene' never worked anything out…he's not seeing anyone right now. Lily and Seely are dating. Sort of. I think he assumes it's dating…I believe she's trying to reform him…make him more liberal in his way of thinking."

Woody grimaced. "I could never see those two together…they're so opposite."

"You know what they say. Opposites attract. I just know she has this….glow…on her face now whenever you mention his name or he walks into the morgue. Whatever they have, it agrees with her."

"What about Bug?"

"That's the most confusing part. He never said a word when Lily started dating Matthew. And I know he's been crazy about her for years."

"He gave up gracefully?"

"He wimped out without a fight, in my opinion."

Woody chuckled. "The morgue soap opera…what about Nigel?"

"With Nigel, who knows? Nigel's Nigel and he keeps his personal life very….personal."

Woody gently rubbed her arm with a finger. "What about your dad, Jo/"

Her breath caught in her throat. _I still feel sparks when he touches me…_she thought, swallowing hard and glancing down at his hand on her arm…inhaling deeply to steady herself, she replied, "Fine. Working hard. But okay."

"Things still well between you two?"

"Yeah. Not that we don't disagree at times, but overall, it's good."

He nodded. "I missed everyone."

"But not enough to call."

He sighed. "It got complicated, Jordan."

"How so? You told me you were going to go clear your head for a month or so….find yourself. I understood that part. But you were gone for two years…no phone call…no e-mail. Do you have any idea how worried I was?" She pulled her sunglasses off to look him in the eyes. "You could have least had the decency to pick up the phone and let me know you were okay…God, I loved you….then you wanted me to promise not to find you…."

"I'm sorry….but I needed more than a month…I got here and everything was so convoluted in my mind…you…the Boston PD…the arrest…these murders…us…I should have called, but I was afraid that everyone would want me to come back to Boston then, and I wasn't ready."

"That's all you had to tell me…that you were okay and that you weren't ready to come home. I would have understood. Believe me, I would have…remember, I was the one who would leave Boston for a couple of years to clear my head. Instead, you leave me hanging…"

"I'm sorry, Jordan. There's just a lot about me you don't know yet. I had to work through a lot of ….stuff. I told you one time…several years ago, I was complicated. I am. You think I'm just a simple backwoods guy from Kewuanne, Wisconsin. Boy Scout. Farm Boy. Cheese Head. But there's more to me than that…and I had to figure out how that all fit into my life now…before I could make a commitment to someone else. Your arrest in Boston…it yanked the last stable thing out from under my feet. I no longer knew if my career and you could exist in my life together…and I was at the point where I had to have something….someone I could count on. I have gone through too much in my life …. I need to know that there's somebody…something ….that will always be there for me….so I can be there for them."

"And you couldn't talk to me about it?" Her voice was low…but didn't carry the heat of anger in it…just a tone of disappointment.

Woody sighed. "I couldn't talk to anyone about it. I had to figure it out myself first."

"Have you? Figured it out, that is?"

"No…not everything."

She sighed. "Are you close?"

"I don't know."

"Care to share what you do know?"

Woody gently took her by the arm. "My first priority right now is keeping you safe," he said, looking her in the eyes. "Neither of us can forget that. You're going to be one of the main witnesses in this case…the one that links all these murders and puts Slash and Dash away for a very long time. When this is over….we'll talk. I know we both still have a lot to say to each other."

She looked into his blue eyes…and she didn't know whether she could believe him or not. Trust is a fragile thing…and the past couple of years had taken a toll on hers…She could count on one hand the people she really had faith in and have three fingers left over.

And Woody wasn't one of the two.

But the man still held her heart in the palm of his hand. What was he going to do with it? Finally, taking another deep breath, she replied. "Fine. We'll talk then." She turned on her heel to go back inside the house.

"Jo."

She turned around to face him once again.

"One thing hasn't changed in two years. My feelings for you. They're the same."


	10. Headaches and Kisses

**Chapter Nine**

_One thing hasn't changed in two years. My feelings for you. They're the same…._

His words kept resonating through her mind for the rest of the evening…as she and Woody ate dinner and cleaned up after themselves….it stayed in the back of her mind. Finally, feigning exhaustion, she mounted the steps to go to her bedroom, leaving Woody up to wait on his uncle to come in.

_If his feelings were still the same, why did he wait two years to contact me?_ She wondered, as she showered and brushed her teeth. _Maybe he is more complicated than you think…maybe he has had his own issues to deal with…maybe what happened in Boston with the Brady case was the catalyst to make him deal with his own demons before…before…before what? Before he returned to me? What if he wasn't going to? What if, despite his feelings for me, he wasn't going to come back to Boston because he didn't feel like he could still be in law enforcement and have a relationship with me at the same time?_

She put on her tank top and a pair of girl boxers and brushed her long hair out. He said they would talk after the case was over…but she didn't know if she could wait that long. Seeing him…being with him…working with him again was causing her heart to go on overload despite whatever her brain was telling her. She may not trust him anymore, but he still made her knees go weak and all it took was his touch to cause her heart to race. Trust is one thing….attraction was another.

_And safety is an entirely different issue_. She knew she had to trust him on that measure…for of all the people in the world, she felt the safest with Woody. If anyone could protect her from the killer, it was him. She collapsed on the bed, trying to will herself to go to sleep…it wasn't working….that and the slight pounding on the inside of her head signaling an oncoming headache, was keeping her awake. There was aspirin in the medicine chest in the bathroom. She remembered seeing it there. She got up to get some, quietly opening the door, but not bothering to lock Woody's side of the bathroom. She was only getting aspirin…when his door swung open, and he entered, ready for bed…sweatpants and no shirt.

"Sorry," he said, trying to back out of the area.

"It's okay. I was only getting something for a headache."

"Are you feeling alright?" he asked, fumbling through the medicine chest for the aspirin bottle.

"Yeah…my head just hurts a little. It's not everyday a serial killer wants to kill you," she deadpanned. _Or that I find out you still care for me._

"Hmmm. You know you're safe here, Jordan. You don't have to worry." He found the bottle and uncapped it. Taking her hand, he shook two tablets into her palm. "There. Take those…you'll feel better in the morning." He closed her fingers around the aspirin and made the mistake of looking down into her eyes…In the confines of the tiny bathroom, they were close…too close…their legs were brushing against each other…and she was wearing so little….reminding him far to vividly of what used to happen between them…and that it had been two years since he had touched her…or any woman for that matter.

And her eyes were telling him the same thing about herself. Before he knew what he was doing, he was gently running his fingers from her hand, down her arm, and up to her shoulder, anchoring them in her hair and pulling her to him, softly brushing his lips against hers.

The response surprised them both. Hunger, tension…the need to be close again drove the kiss. Her hands went up to his bare chest, finding their way to his neck and gently massaging the back of it as he pulled her closer…and kissed her deeper, his arms wrapped around her back and waist. When he finally broke the kiss, they both were breathless, but he didn't let go. "Jordan," he finally whispered, "you need to take the aspirin and go to bed."

She shook her head. "I don't want to. Not alone."

"Not now…we need to talk first, but after everything with this case is over…and an arrest is made."

"That could take weeks."

"Maybe we could get all the talking out of the way during that time," he said, pulling back and looking in her eyes.

She nodded. "Is it that important to you? That we talk first?"

He sighed and gently brushed the hair back out of her eyes. "Yes, it is. You're hurt because you don't understand my actions. You don't trust me any longer, and I don't blame you…but I can tell you I had good reasons to go off like this and try to sort everything out…" He lifted her chin so she was looking in his eyes. "I want you to trust me, again Jordan. With everything. Not just this…your safety…but with your heart again. Can you try?"

She swallowed. She didn't trust anyone now…not easily. At least no one except Nigel and her dad. She was colder and more cynical than ever.

But she loved him.

So she needed to be able to trust him one more time.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "But please, Woody….don't hurt me again."

* * *

"Hey, sleepyhead, wake up," Woody said, gently shaking her. "It's time to rise and shine."

Jordan opened one eye and then promptly closed it in protest to the early morning light. "What time is it?" she asked, trying to roll back over and bury her head under the pillows.

"You still so not a morning person, are you?" asked Woody, trying unsuccessfully to extract her from beneath the bed clothes. "Hiding will not make the morning go away."

"Yeah, but it will prolong facing it."

"Maybe this will make it better."

A familiar aroma wafted towards her. She sat up and reached for the cup. "Coffee….Woodrow Hoyt, you're a saint."

He grinned. "And don't you ever forget it."

"So what's on the agenda today?" she asked, relishing the hot liquid sliding down her throat.

"Well, no chasing bad guys…Denning is doing that. Which, by the way, I called him this morning and they're closing in on the killer…it was the fifth suspect you had listed. But I thought you may want to go into town this morning…get a bathing suit…"

"Could we see the dolphins?" she asked. She sounded like a kid in her eagerness. Woody chuckled.

"Yeah. We'll do the dolphins."

She grinned back at him and threw back the covers. "Then what are we waiting on…time's a-wasting, Farm Boy.

Woody smiled as she made a bee-line for the bathroom. He hoped the rest of their time together could be this way…it would make telling her everything easier…and then maybe they could pick their relationship up where they left off last night…


	11. I Have to Go

**Chapter Ten**

While Denning was searching for suspect number five, Woody and Jordan continued to enjoy their time in Marathon. The dolphins were wonderful…Jordan didn't want to leave the refuge. He finally had to nearly drag her out of it…and the same thing happened at the turtle hospital. "Maybe you missed your true calling," he teased.

"Oh, really? And what might that be?"

"A vet. Maybe you should have been a vet."

"Nah…I think it comes from a deprived childhood. Dad would never let me have a pet. Not even a fish. I don't know if he was scared I'd forget to feed it or I'd get too attached to it… and then wouldn't know how to handle it if it died or something. I guess that's why animals fascinate me. Especially those dolphins. Wow."

They had walked on in silence for a few minutes. "What about you, Woody? Did your mom and dad ever let you have animals when you were growing up? Gee, I bet in Wisconsin you had lots of room to have dogs or even maybe horses."

Well, there it was. She unknowingly gave him the lead in.

"No…not exactly."

She turned to him as they were walking along the beach and raised an eyebrow…a sure signal she was requesting more information. He found a bench they could sit down and led her over to it. Now was as good of a time as any.

"I need to talk to you, Jordan."

"That never sounds like good news, Woody."

He gave a small, tight smile. "This is stuff you need to know…part of the reason I had to leave Boston and clear my head for a while."

She sat down beside him. "Okay. I'm listening."

"My parents, Jo….they're dead. They're both gone."

Jordan drew in her breath sharply. "When did this happen? Was it while we were in Boston? Did it happen when Walcott jailed me?" Her mind was rapidly trying to put together a scenario that would somehow cause him to leave Massachusetts and run to his uncle's in Florida.

"No…no. Not then. My mom died when I was four – cancer."

Jordan was stunned. Four. The image of a chubby, dimpled, blue-eyed motherless baby broke her heart. "Oh, Woody. I _am_ sorry. So sorry." She laid a gentle hand on his arm. He covered it with his own.

"I know you are. I know you understand….how difficult it can be growing up without a mom. I mean I guess it would be harder for a girl…but it's not easy either way."

She nodded…allowing him some time before he continued. "My dad….like your dad was a policeman, too. After…after Mom died, things got kind of rough for him as a single parent…sort of like it did for your dad, too, I'm sure," he said, looking down for a minute to compose himself and gather his thoughts. "It wasn't always 'Father Knows Best' at my house, if you know what I mean."

Jordan nodded, swallowing hard to keep herself from loosing it.

"Anyway," he continued, "when I was sixteen, he answered a robbery call at a convenience store. An eighteen year-old pumped three shots in him. He died ten days later…in my arms."

"Dear, God…Woody….why haven't you said anything before now?"

"I thought I had dealt with it. Not exactly put it behind me, but had learned to accept it. I had finished raising Cal and moved on with my life. To Boston. Then I met this brown-eyed medical examiner that pretty much stole my heart." He turned to her with a smile.

Jordan returned the smile, somewhat shyly. He had never told her that before. "I did?"

"Yeah. You did. But when all this came up with the Brady case…it was like everything in my world was ripped out from under me again. I mean, I knew I loved you…and you loved me…and I thought nothing could ever happen to that. Then, in nearly two heartbeats, you were taken away…to jail…possibly for a long time. That nearly killed me. And what was worse, was that I knew it could happen again. There were two things in my life I knew I could count on, Jordan. You and my job. And suddenly the two worlds collided. Either one of you or both of you could disappear from my life at any point in time. This sixteen year-old kid inside me…just couldn't handle the thought of that happening…that once again, everything….everyone I counted on could just….disappear like so much smoke.

"I had to have time to figure my life out. Could I possibly live without one or the other…Could I have both and then just hold my breath from day to day, cross my fingers, and just pray nothing happened to either? So I ran…I didn't mean to hurt you…or anyone…but I just had to have some time."

"Have you had enough?"

He sighed. "Given the choice between you or my job, you win, hands down. You're more important than any police work."

Jordan's heart thrilled at his comment, but she also knew that in time, he may resent having to make the choice. Woody was a cop…from the inside out. She knew it and so did everyone else that had contact with him. He might be able to fool himself that he liked this private investigator gig, but he wasn't fooling her. The questions he had asked her about the Boston PD since they had been together….the hurt look in his eyes….the tone of his voice when old cases were discussed….she knew he missed his job. Would he resent her over time for choosing them over something he had worked hard for all his life?

She opened her mouth to reply when suddenly his cell phone rang. She heard him say hello…and then yeah….okay… great. I'll let her know. He flipped his phone shut. "That was Denning. They caught the suspect. He's on his way back to Boston…"

Jordan's phone rang right behind his. Flipping hers open, she heard Garret's voice, telling her the same thing that Woody just did…and that she had a reserved seat on a flight out of Orlando tomorrow at two. Nigel was e-mailing her tickets and other arrangements. Walcott wanted her back as soon as possible. "Okay," she softly told her boss, and shut her phone. Turning to Woody, she said, "I have to go."


	12. From the Corners of My Heart

**Chapter Eleven**

_For Auntkia…had to finish it before you left the country!_

He watched her small puddle-jumper plane take off from Marathon with a mixture of regret and longing….they had made no future promises, or even talked very much about anything after Jordan's phone call from Garret. They had returned to the house and Jordan went upstairs and checked her e-mail to get her travel arrangements from Nigel. He had heard her moving around, getting her things together and putting them in her bags, to get ready to go back to Boston. It wasn't until much later that evening he saw her again.

She came through their shared bathroom, quietly opening the door when she had heard him come in his bedroom, wearing an outfit he had never seen before….a simple, white, lacy button up sleeveless blouse and matching skirt. It wasn't often he saw Jordan in a dress….much less one as feminine as this one. But in that outfit, with her hair loose and curling around her shoulders, she was the epitome of _womanhood_. "Hi," she said, shutting the door behind her, and walking over to where he was at. "You had your say this afternoon. Now it's my turn."

He swallowed hard. He knew she sympathized with his position…but he had left her for over a year…a lot of things could happen in a year. A lot of things could change.

"I wish you would have told me everything a long time ago, Woody. There was no need to keep it all bottled up inside. I would have listened…and understood. I understand now. I know what it's like to loose nearly everything you hold dear. My mom is gone. And my dad…while my dad is back in Boston right now, I never really know when he may take off again. I know he loves me….and wants the best for me, but he's not always around when I really need him.

"But you have always been there for me….through so much I can't even begin to describe. You've done so much…and while you told me I stole your heart a long time ago," she reached out and took his hand and placed it on her the center of her chest, "mine has been yours nearly from the minute you said 'hello'. When you left, it really startled me…scared me…I didn't know what I was going to do without you.

"And I was mad…because I didn't understand…One of the few people I trusted with my life…and heart…had left and didn't tell me why and didn't want me looking for them. I felt so _lost_…like everyone I had faith in had deserted me. I begin to think that I couldn't trust anyone again. I guess I got kind of hard…cynical.

"But I understand now, Woody. I do. Love ….love doesn't happen over night. Not real love. It's a process. It has to grow…and sometimes you have to give it time out. That's what you needed…and I'm glad you took it.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I still love you, Woody. And I understand why you needed this time. And when you've cleared your head….please, come back to Boston…I'll ….I'll be there…." And with that she curved one hand around his neck and drew him down for a kiss.

And his head spun. It was still spinning….

She had kissed him deeply, tangling their tongues. His arms had slid around her waist, but she didn't allow him to pull her closer. Instead, she reached up and unbuttoned her blouse and slid it from her shoulders. Then kissed him again and went to work on his shirt, taking it off and letting it join hers on the floor. This time, when he reached for her, she sighed with contentment and let him pull her close, kissing her face, her neck, and then his way across her collar bone before finding her lips again.

Two years. It had been two years since they had last been together like this….the night before she had been arrested for the Brady case. Part of Woody had wanted to rush to the point of satisfaction he knew both of them were craving…and another part of him wanted to draw it out for as long as he could.

The last part won out. He slowly removed her skirt before he carried her to bed, holding her against him and kissing her until she softly asked him to take everything else off of her. And he had obliged, taking his own sweet time until she had arched against him. Seeing her in his bed again…her hair loose and spread out on his pillow, her lips soft from his kisses….slowly was forgotten very quickly.

The next morning, she had woken him up with a kiss…she had already gotten up and showered, to get ready to meet her plane. She had gently shaken him until she saw the blue glint of his eyes and then softly kissed him the rest of the way awake. _I could get used to this,_ he had thought, pulling her to him. But she resisted.

"I've got to go, Woody. I'm meeting the prop plane at ten, then flying to Orlando. From Orlando, it's a straight shot home."

He had dressed quickly and took her to the small, municipal airport and waited for her to board. Before she had left, she pulled him in for a quick kiss. "I love you Woodrow Wilson Hoyt. I always will. Don't forget it. Clear your head, then come back home to me. I'll be waiting for you," she said, holding his face between her hands. "And listen to this part real carefully. _I'm not going anywhere_. You don't have to worry about that. I'm not going to vanish like smoke…I'm not going to run…Do what you have to do, then come back to Boston."

He looked deep into those brown-eyes. "Are you sure? Do you trust me again, Jordan?" They were calling her to board the plane.

Reluctantly, she had loosened her grip and turned to go, calling over her shoulder. "Yes…from the corners of my heart…..just please…come home soon."

* * *

That had been two months ago. Since then, the suspected Slash and Dash killer had been brought in. Jordan had amassed a desk full of evidence against him. Rene had told her that when the trial began, not only would Jordan have to testify, but also Woody would be subpoenaed.

All she knew was that she would see him then….but it could be months down the road. She sighed and turned back to her computer…getting caught up on her paperwork after being gone for a while was a real bitch.

And missing Woody so much wasn't making it easier. She found herself staring into space several times during the day, wondering where he was at and what he was doing.

The nights were even harder. She didn't regret they had made love before she left. She had planned it that way. She hadn't anticipated that by doing that, it would make the ache for him even that much stronger.

She was so deep in her thoughts that she didn't hear her office door quietly open a bit further, nor hear someone come up behind her. "Honey, I'm home," said a voice from behind her.

She swung around. Propped against her doorframe was Woody…looking like he did in the old days, in his suit and tie. But a visitor's pass hung around his neck now, instead of a police badge. She slowly rose from her chair, not quite believing her eyes. "I wasn't expecting you…maybe until the trial…."

"I can always leave and come back…"

'No. No," she said reaching for him and hugging him close. "Not a chance. You're home? For real?"

"And forever. And you waited."

"I told you I would."

He smiled down at her. "My head's clear now, Jo."

"And what does that mean to you?"

He held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. "My past is in the past. I can learn from it, deal with it, but I can't make it affect my future too much. I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you…and I have to trust, in the corners of my heart, that you won't leave…like nearly everyone else has. Trust and love go hand in hand."

She nodded. "But what about your job? Are you going back to the police department?"

"Hm. No."

"No?"

"Not yet, anyway. I was just talking to Rene' Walcott…"

"She won't let you back in….that bit…."

He put his hand over her mouth. "No. She understood my hesitation about rejoining the police department, although they do want me back. She suggested that I become a special investigator for the DA for a while and then after a few months, see if I want to get back into police department. Either way, I'm helping to catch the bad guy, which is what I want. So what do you think?" he asked, looking down at her through his lashes.

"You're home. That's the main thing."

"Can we start over, Jo? Can we take the love we have and rebuild the trust and faith in each other we used to have?"

"Funny thing about love, trust, and faith…they kind of multiply off each other."

Woody nodded. "So you're willing….to try."

Jordan wrapped her arms around his neck. "Woody….I love you. Completely."

He lightly tapped her chest with his forefinger. "From the corners of your heart and everywhere else?"

She smiled up at him. "Cross my heart…from the corners and everything in between."


End file.
